It was a
risk. But, as Chilcote had said, risk was the salt of life!
"I'm afraid you think me very troublesome." The voice came
again, delicately low and conciliatory.
For a brief second Loder wondered uncertainly how long or how
well Chilcote knew Lady Astrupp; then he dismissed the
question. Chilcote had never mentioned her until to-night,
and then casually as Lady Bramfell's sister. What a coward he
was becoming in throwing the dice with Fate! Without further
delay he drew off the rings, slipped them into his pocket, and
replaced his hands on the smooth table-top.
Then, at the moment that he replaced them, a peculiar thing
occurred.
From the farther side of the dark partition came the quick,
rustling stir of a skirt, and the slight scrape of a chair
pushed either backward or forward. Then there was silence.
Now, silence can suggest anything, from profound thought to
imbecility; but in this case its suggestion was nil. That
something had happened, that some change had taken place, was
as patent to Loder as the darkness of the curtain or the band
of light that crossed the floor, but what had occasioned it,
or what it stood for, he made no attempt to decide.
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